


insecurity

by DestinyFreeReally



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Late Night Phone Calls, Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 03:08:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10630884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestinyFreeReally/pseuds/DestinyFreeReally
Summary: "You're calling me at..." Mac answered the phone, and then pulled it away from her cheek to wince at her clock, "3:32 in the morning, Will."Settling back into her pillow, Mac waited for an explanation, as if Will McAvoy afforded her any of those these days."Yes, and if I'd been calling to ask the time, I'd imagine I'd be greatly satisfied by now." Will exhaled pale smoke from his cigarette, watched it waft and float from the balcony, away into the city's night sky.





	

     Mac ignored the first two rings of her cellphone, and then grudgingly squinted her eyes open, fumbling for it in the dark as her ringtone continued to angrily blare.  
  
     "You're calling me at..." Mac answered the phone, and then pulled it away from her cheek to wince at her clock, "3:32 in the morning, Will."   
  
     Settling back into her pillow, Mac waited for an explanation, as if Will McAvoy afforded her any of those these days.  
  
     "Yes, and if I'd been calling to ask the time, I'd imagine I'd be greatly satisfied by now." Will exhaled pale smoke from his cigarette, watched it waft and float from the balcony, away into the city's night sky.  
  
     "Well, how can I satisfy you, then? Some of us need proper sleep, because we like to actually  _try_ to be agreeable to our coworkers. Mostly, anyway." Keeping her eyes closed, Mac could only grit her teeth at how awake she was- mind fully at attention, ready to prompt him to death if he'd just spit out his problem. However much she teased him about being prickly, about being full of himself, about being an ass... the small moments he was kind to her, even around her, were unspeakably more difficult than the easy weight of his disagreeableness.  
  
    "Seeing as  _you're_ the reason I'm awake, I'm not particularly inclined to afford you much beauty sleep," Will grumbled, half to himself, and let a beat of silence pass, where he swore he could hear her hold her breath through the phone. "Did you know that job insecurity is one of the top stressors in America these days? It can cause a number of physiological symptoms and health issues, such as insomnia, hair loss, irritability, and weight gain."   
  
    Mac sighed a shameful breath of relief, and fought not to roll her eyes; it was a  _work call_ , at four am.  
  
     "Weight gain? Are you calling me to ask which tie colors make you look bloated on camera? Because you've always looked best in blue, you know. Like a nice, navy blue, medium width tie, with just a  _bit_ of texture." Biting a fingernail in the dark, Mac tried to remind herself that technically he could still fire her. Technically.  
  
     "You really won't be happy until our ratings are awful, will you?" Will had to shake his head, sinking deeper into his chair.  _News Night 2.0_ was taking off like a tied-down-slashed-to-pieces-lead-balloon; and no one was even letting him  _know_ the numbers anymore. "I mean, Charlie won't say  _peep_ , but it's thousands of people turning us off right, turning  _me_ off, Mac." Flicking ash from his cigarette, Will ignored the notes of sincerity she wordlessly brought out of him. With the entire world, he'd cultivated a personality, an  _agreement_ , really. That he'd stay couched in careful, pleasant tones to win their careful, pleasant approval. Will was eager to bet that Mackenzie McHale had never based a decision on approval in her life, and he shook his head.  
  
     "Are you  _really_ going to keep yourself  _and me_ up at night fretting over thousand's of other people's opinions of you, when  _I_ couldn't be prouder of you, of our work, of our team?" Coaxing Will into giving up goodness for something  _great_ was getting increasingly difficult amidst the networks' and the public's pushback. Mac  _felt_ the electricity every night- of doing something to be proud of, with people to be admired. She wanted  _that_ feeling to be the one Will craved, over all else.  
  
     "At the moment, I think I care a bit more about the opinions of thousands of other people over yours, yes." Will cleared his throat, idly wondering if there'd been enough humor in his voice, or too much, or why he'd even called her at all.  
  
     "I see. Well, if you're going to bald-faced lie to me, at least have the decency to do it during business hours. Go to sleep, Will, we have to do the news tomorrow. Your job's plenty secure for tonight." Without giving him the option for the last word, Mac flipped closed her phone, laying back in the darkness, picturing him all alone in his big, quiet apartment.   
  
     He thought about redialing, about reminding her how perhaps she should be awake wondering about  _her_ job security. Will tapped the edge of his phone against his lips, not ready to move yet, not ready to go to bed quite yet. His eyes closed lazily, picturing her in bed for hours, swathed in big blankets, hair a mess. Shaking himself from the image, from the  _memory,_ Will snuffed his cigarette into the ashtray.  
  
     "Goodnight, Mac." He said to the dead phone line, both placated and further disturbed by her, as usual.


End file.
